


Progress

by RavenClawRavensandSlytherinSnakes



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Minor Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenClawRavensandSlytherinSnakes/pseuds/RavenClawRavensandSlytherinSnakes
Summary: Kaz, just after the end of Crooked Kingdom. Nina has left, making her way back to Ravka with grief and purpose. Inej is away, sailing on her ship to free slaves. Jesper and Wylan have moved into Wylans old house, Jesper having saved his father's farm. Kaz has won - he got his money and he got his revenge. He's the proverbial King of Ketterdam.So why has nothing changed?
Relationships: Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker & Jordie Rietveld, Kaz Brekker & Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker & Original Character(s), Kaz Brekker & Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wrote a while back, and was inspired to continue. Have mapped out a plan for this, and now I have the time to finish it! 
> 
> I loved six of crows and crooked kingdom, but I always felt that despite the happy ending - kaz' problems were deeper than just money. I feel like he has some deep-seated emotional problems because of his trauma and I wanted to explore the relationship he has with his past and his present - how he's achieved everything but has found as is often the case that reaching a goal won't make you feel better. He has money, he has power - now what?

The whisky is amber. Almost molten as he swirls the deep liquid in his smudged glass. 

It burns as it goes down. 

He had won. Hadn't he? He was richer than he had ever been. He was the King of the dregs, as close to royalty as anyone could be in Ketterdam. He'd gotten his revenge - everything that he had ever set out to do as a child Kaz had more than accomplished. He had pulled Pekka Rollins apart brick by brick. He had made him feel the deep bone fear that he himself had felt as a child. Kaz had thoroughly bested him, taken everything he loved...

Why was it not enough?

It should be enough that he had gotten his revenge, his money, his reputation. it should be enough that Jesper had paid back his father, had quit gambling. That they were happy and safe, with Wylan and his mother. It should be enough that Inej had gone to change the world, free as she had dreamed to be. He should be happy, damn it. Even Nina had returned to Ravka as she had wanted to do since she had arrived in Ketterdam.

It wasn't enough.

The glass was empty. He pushed it to the barkeep, who filled it again obligingly, with a warning about closing time. Kaz didn't know how many glasses he had had. He vaguely nodded in the barkeeps' direction and closed his gloved fingers around the cool glass.

The burn of the whiskey, warming him from the inside, was worth the shiver-inducing nausea of cold misted crystal.

Kaz had sacrificed too much to this dream - this obsession. How many lives had he risked in his 10 years? And he didn't just meet Mathias - cold, lifeless, thrown away for an idea that betrayed him - he meant those he had ruined. The marks who had been just like him, just like Jordie, still too naive to know any better. He'd risked his own life too, but he didn't count that too much, he'd been ruined from the start. No, Kaz had risked Jesper's. Had risked Jesper's own father, knowing how much he meant to him. He had risked Wylan and Nina and Inej. Nina had climbed through a burning hole, Inej had been kidnapped - he had risked everyone and everything for the sliver of revenge, of the hope that maybe once he had torn down Rollins, it would get better. Once he had his own piece of this town, a town that had once thrown him away, Kaz would be happy. That maybe the knowledge that he had done everything he'd ever whispered to himself, lying in the cold alleys after Jordie's death, maybe it would stop the anger.

It hadn't. 

His hand clenched around the glass, the leather of his gloves the only boundary from the cool condensation. He downed the whiskey, barely wincing as its fire burned through his heart. 

"Hey," called the barkeep, "Easy on the wood,"

Kaz glanced up at the man and tipped his head slightly. The glass scratched against the table as he pushed it forward. 

The barkeep shook his head. 

"We're closed, now - go find another bottle someplace else." 

Kaz considered the keep for a moment, and then glanced around the tavern. He was right, it was empty. There were a few seedy looking fellows still lounging around, but other than them it was just him and the barkeep. Well, Kaz thought wryly, He was definitely the seediest of the lot. 

The biggest monsters were those that were hidden, after all. 

Deftly pulling out some cash from a hidden pocket, Kaz dropped the metal onto the scratched surface, the barman swept it up and gave him a nod. Kaz would see him again the next night, as he had for the last seven. There was no disguising who he was - not in the dregs. But as long as he got the cash and kept his wits, no one would dare make a move against him. 

Clenching his cane, he walked out of the bar into the cool streets. The harbours winds blew through the alleyway he ducked into, making him shiver slightly, imperceptibly.

Kaz made sure to never drink enough to be drunk. He didn't want to be slow, to black out. He couldn't afford to get pissed, but gods he had come close to it today. He stumbled slightly as e walked, welcoming the fuzz of alcohol. He was definitely more drunk than tipsy. 

But, damn it all, he's angry.

He's furious at everything, it had not stopped. Running Rollins out had helped for w while, but then the fury had slowly trickled back. He knew he was being more ruthless than usual in his jobs, throwing punches that struck harder. But he was furious and confused - why hadn't it helped? He had everything he had ever dreamed of, and yet he found himself looking around the dusty town on a midweek evening hating the sight of everything. Every brick, every alley disgusted him. 

Jesper and Wylan had offered him a place to stay, after. After Nina had left with Mathias' body, after Inej's ship had long left the harbour, Jesper had come to him and offered. He could stay with them, he said. Live in the house of Van Eck, with Jesper. They had looked at him both so young still, and so hopeful. He'd considered it, imagined living in luxury. Imagined not needing to watch his back every time he walked home, or walk up those flights of stairs. He imagined having dinner with Jesper and Wylan every night and feeling that sense of family that he had lost before he was 10. 

And he had said no.

Jesper's face had fallen, his smile slipping right off. 

He couldn't explain it, wouldn't explain it. He had sent Jesper off with a wry, "I've bled for this city, I'll stay to make sure it's mine.

And Jesper had shaken his head and left him there, on the harbour. 

His feet found his way there now, in the shadows of the moonlight. The ocean looked black at this time of night, reflecting back to cloudy cover on the sky. It sprayed near him and blew fierce winds in his face. The cold was almost hot as it bit and snapped. his gloved fingers clenched around the crow of his cane. 

He hated it all. He hated the city and its inhabitants. He hated the marks he found on the street, so easily foolishly conned. He hated the rich merchants, laying back in their riches and ignoring the world. He hated the dregs and how easily they would turn on anyone. He hated that Inej had gone, was furious about Mathias' death. He hated how Nina had gone back to a country that was in turmoil. He was bitter and furious of how happy Jesper and Wylan made it seem, how easy they made it look to just reach out and smile. He hated the creaky stairs that lead to his room and felt insurmountable some days. He hated how he had to lock the door and triple check it before he could sleep. He hated how even on the coldest nights, he could only sleep with a thin blanket, the weight of a heavy duvet waking him up in cold sweat. 

He had money. Now what? What was it's use? He could use it to make more, of course - wealth begets wealth. But what was the point? It hadn't changed anything. His revenge on Rollins hadn't really changed anything.

And most all, he hated himself for being foolish enough to believe it would. 

Hands shaking, he gripped one edge of the glove, pulling it off of one hand. the cold wind snapped at his fingers, instantly sucking all warmth. he could feel the icy drops of water spraying from the water settle on his hands. He took a deep breath.

He gripped his cane, grounding himself in the sting of the metal crow. 

He let the breath go and walked further towards the edge of the harbour. 

The tight clench of his fingers around the cane pinched. It rubbed against the minuscule cuts he received from flipping cards. Slowly, he took in the scent of mud and rain - his fingers were numb now. They shook slightly but Kaz wasn't sure if it was from the cold sea air or from the memory of another cold, wet night. 

His fingers fumbled as he slipped his glove back on. It didn't help. The numbness had set in deep, he could feel it in his bones. The leather of the glove covered every inch of his hand, and the residual warmth of it couldn't break through the cold that set over him. 

Kaz sucked in a sharp breath, taking in the violent tides, before turning and walking back up the pier. His footsteps were silent, and he stayed close to the shadows, ducking through alleyways to get back to the creaky building in the dregs. 

It had gotten worse.

The pain, the memories, everything. Why had he thought I would get better? Because he'd had his revenge? Because he had been able to touch Inej - barely - and she had seen him and accepted him? Damn it all he'd been trying, as often as he could taking off his gloves.

He'd promised Inej he would try but it had gotten worse.

He couldn't stand the feel of cold glass on his bare fingers. Felt the icy grips of the water rushing through his lungs when he sat by the harbour, his cold, numb fingers prickling on his cane. He hadn't even attempted to take them off to fight, to brush his hands against another human as they passed cards. He knew he wouldn't be able to stomach it and rumours only grew, he couldn't afford to look weak now.

But _Saints_ he was furious.

The cane he gripped in his gloved fingers slipped against the wet stone, disturbed by a small mound. A foot. Kaz glanced down at it and saw it was attached to a figure, small and leaning against the stone. Their hood was up, covering their face as Kaz' covered his. Slowly, the foot retreated and eyes peeled out from beneath the hood, glaring at him.

Kaz raised his eyebrow, cooling his expression and turned his head forward to move on. 

"Hey!" called the figure - a boy - from behind him, "Nobody teach you to apologize?" 

Kaz clenched his fingers around his cane, savouring its burn.

"Nobody teach you not to provoke strangers in dark alleys?" He didn't turn as he said this, coolly continuing to walk.

There was silence again, and Kaz left the boy.

The wind blew harder in the narrow alleys going through his bones between his layers. It had been a night just like this one, he thought, when he'd crawled out of the lake. He had lain just as that boy had done, in the shelter of a side alley, away from the stadwatch. And he'd also been practically squirming for a fight too, ready to punch the first person who remotely glanced his way so filled with bitter fury. 

And had he changed? Had Kaz left that broken bitter boy behind? 

Sometimes it felt like he hadn't. He hated that boy, how he had fought everyone, and got caught just the once. Kaz had only needed to get caught once to learn, and he hadn't since.

He hated how he had let his revenge consume, and felt an uncomfortable pressure in his chest when he thought of how Jordie would feel looking at him now. He hated that he couldn't let it go, couldn't let the fear and anger melt away. He hated who he used to be with Jordie, hated how naive foolish he had been. 

He hated Jordie sometimes too. 

He turned the corner, in another alleyway and ... paused. The dregs broken down building was just ahead of him. Nobody was around the road silent and still with the threat of plague.

And yet...

Kaz continued to walk, purposefully relaxing his grip on the cane. He tapped it lightly on the stone, and then again louder. And- there. 

In the camouflage of his cane, his pursuer had let his guard down. Had shifted too loudly, let their feet fall just enough for Kaz to hear the thud.

"Evening," Kaz said, not pausing his stride. "Lovely night for a walk."

There was no reply. And although Kaz kept his ear out he didn't hear anything. 

"A little rude to ignore someone when they talk to you," he continued, "but then again - following them in the dead of night doesn't exactly strike me as polite either."

"And you'd know about polite company?" Asked the pursuer.

It was the boy, savage and bitter from the alley. Kaz let out a breath and gripped his cane again loosely. He had thought it may have been some of Rollins' old gang, ready to take revenge.

"Plenty."

Kaz let the silence stretch, waiting for him to crack.

"I've heard about you." The boy moved closer, he was balancing on the edge of a rooftop. Nimbly he climbed down a pipe, gripping a window frame. "You steal, and you con, and you kill."

"And if I do?" Kaz's gloved fingers felt sweaty. "I'm a merchant, boy. I'm just more honest about my business."

The boy jumped from the pipe, landing roughly in front of him.

"Don't call me boy."

Kaz looked at him. Short, skinny, barely 14 - he was a child. Glaring fiercely, covered in dirt and ash, but a kid. A boy. For a moment Kaz thought of bringing him into the dregs, teaching him. With the way, he climbed the kid could replace Inej as his spider. 

But the life of the dregs was no place for this child. Still naive, believing in the good of the world. Kaz gripped his cane and walked past him.

He felt the boy's gaze at his back.

"Not this time, not again," he heard the kid mutter, "Don't walk away from me!"

He didn't hear the boy move, silent as his steps were and engrossed as he was on ignoring, leaving, not bringing another child into his messy world

But he felt the bare hand, covered in dirt and damp from the drizzling rain grip his shoulder, and brush against his own bare neck. His fingernails were long and cut into his skin, the damp chill of it turned his stomach.

And then he wasn't outside the dregs, waiting to get to his room. He wasn't an angry, bitter leader of a gang, wasn't a street rat, wasn't rich, wasn't anything. He was panicked and drowning and he felt the dead corpses surround him, suffocate him. He couldn't breathe, he was going to drown clutching his dead brother, was going to join him - Jordie wake up, he was praying and losing.

He was kicking and punching and felt a punch straight to his gut and then he couldn't breathe. His eyes were open and he could see dark stringy hair, damp and it wasn't the kids anymore it was Jordies. He punched out against the corpse, pushing it away, getting a hit straight into the jaw and the body fell and hit the ground.

He fell too, clutching at a stick - his cane - clutching at the floor pushing it away from him and breathing deep cool breaths. And then he was back in Ketterdam, he was Kaz and he was outside of the dregs. And the body infront of him wasn't that of a corpse but a child, who had picked the wrong fight. 

"Shit," he swore. "Shit, kid -"

The boy looked winded but otherwise okay. 

"Go - go inside," he stuttered, "Take a bed, sleep it off,"

The boy raised his head, a bruise swelling up on his cheek, his knuckles grazed from hitting the stone. He was glaring at Kaz, confused and angry.

"What the hell was that?"

Kaz didn't answer, he felt like he was going to throw up. He could still feel the chill damp.of.flesh on his neck. He turned away and pulled open the door, making his way steadily up the stairs leading to his bedroom.

He could hear the roar of people downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Their voices blurred out into a stream of sound. At last, when he reached his door he slipped in, shutting and locking it behind him.

Then he threw up, down the toilet.

His skin felt shaky and clammy and why did this happen?H should be better than this.

He had lost control, had become the scared boy waiting for Jordie to wake up. Why wouldn't that boy just die?

He swiped a stray shirt across his mouth and collapsed over the bed. His sleep was littered with nightmares, of corpses and water, of little boys playing in a river of death.


End file.
